


Body Swap

by Adventures_in_Writing



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Grimmons, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 13:03:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4836398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adventures_in_Writing/pseuds/Adventures_in_Writing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doesn't this sort of thing only ever happen in movies?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Body Swap

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt received on [ my Tumblr](http://an-adventure-in-writing.tumblr.com/): Simmons and grif switch bodies and Simmons starts getting all upset about how grif smells and grif just doubles over. And he's just like "I never knew" all quite and stuff because it turns out some of Simmons parts don't work too well or something so he's in constant pain. So grif is like "as soon as we switch back we're fixing this. Bonus if he yells at sarge.

* * *

The first thing that Richard Simmons noticed that it was difficult to move. The second thing he noticed was that he really, _really_ needed a shower. He felt dirty and greasy and, God, was that smell him!?

When he finally managed to sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed, he realised that something wasn’t quite right.

A pained groan came from the bunk next to him.  
“Oh god…” came the muffled voice, “Simmons, I think I’m dying…”

Simmons looked over towards the pile of blankets on the bed. The voice that came from it was not Grif’s, but that was impossible. The two of them shared a room, and the voice that reached his ears was neither Donut nor Sarge nor Lopez. It was his own.

“Grif?” he asked slowly. The voice that came from him was low pitched and nasally, quite different to his own. He lifted a hand to his face and peered at the mismatched skin and the lines where the grafts met.

Another pained groan had Simmons getting to his feet. Everything felt wrong. He was too short and too round. His shoulders were rounded and god, breathing was a chore. Padding over to the bed, Simmons tossed back the blanket and looked down at his body, currently inhabited by Grif.

Grif opened his eyes and rolled over, intent on telling Simmons that he was being serious and was in horrible pain right now. His arm ached horrendously and could hardly move, and there was some god-awful stabbing sensation that was sometimes in his stomach, sometimes in his chest. His insult never made it off of his tongue. He stared stupidly up at his own face frowning down at him.

“It’ll feel better once you’re up and moving,” Simmons said with a sigh.

“But I’m dying,” Grif whined, curling up into a little ball.

“No you’re not. This happens all the time. Trust me. It’s my body.”

Slowly Grif sat up, and it felt like his insides were moving, dropping in to place. It was the strangest sensation. He did notice that the stabbing pains in his stomach and chest weren’t quite so strong.  
“Simmons, what the fuck is this?”

Simmons shrugged. “I don’t know. We woke up like this. Maybe it has something to do with those weird alien temples or something?”

“Not the body switching, I mean this,” Grif gestured to himself. “The dying pains and the weird feeling of engine oil trickling through you.”

Simmons shrugged. “It’s always been like that. It’s what I get for saving your sorry ass.”

Grif looked at Simmons, his brow furrowed. “I never knew… Why didn’t you say something?”

“When do you guys ever listen to me?”  
  
“Telling us that you’re living in constant pain is totally different to giving a report on the local plants.”

“It could be beneficial to know!”

“And yet you don’t try to tell us about your weird stomach dying pains and your robot arm that doesn’t work right.”

“Yeah…it seizes up sometimes. I think it’s something in the joint. Here…”

Simmons shifted to take Grif’s arm in hand. Jostling it a little, he bent it in such a way that there was a small metallic click. He tested the motion a few times before nodding to himself. “That should do it. You should be able to bend your arm just fine now. Oh. Unless the shoulder has popped too.”

Grif bent his arm and stretched it above his head, the range of motion on it near perfect now. Whilst it didn’t lessen the dull ache in his shoulder, at least he could move it now.

“Thanks Simmons.”

“Uh…you’re welcome.”

Grif stood. “Now, before I go and take this body for a test drive, there’s just one thing I have to do.”

*****

It was the first time that Grif had ever actively sought Sarge out as though he were a man on a mission. His stride was purposeful and his gaze was set into a frown. Never let it be said that Dexter Grif didn’t bother his ass when a friend needed it. He burst into Sarge’s workshop just as he finished off an Oreo.

“Simmons? What have I told you about eating?”

“Sorry, Sarge…”

“Grif! Why are you apologising?”

“Something weird has happened, Sir, and I - Simmons - is Grif and Grif is me.”

Sarge peered at his subordinates. “…is this some weird game you two are playin’?”

“No, Sarge.”

“Oh. Well…how’d it happen?”

“It’s a test!” Donut announced happily as he walked inside, a number of broken rifles that needed repairing in his arms. “I’ve seen heaps of movies like this. Two enemies swap bodies until they discover that they secretly love each other!”

“What?! No!” Simmons shouted.

“Shut up, Grif!”

“That wasn’t me, Sir,” Grif said.

“Goddamn it, Simmons!”

“No, Sir. I look like Grif and Grif looks like me.”

Sarge grumbled to himself. How was he supposed to make any sense of this?! He turned to Donut. “How do they turn back?”

“They have to sleep together, duh,” Donut said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “How else are they supposed to show that they’re in love?”

There was an awkward pause amongst the group. Simmons was too embarrassed to even shout anything out and Grif couldn’t believe that Donut had said such a thing.

“… … well,” Sarge said at length, “I _suppose_ I could just get used to hating maroon, but it will take years of undoing carefully conditioned hatred towards orange! And that I just can’t do. Simmons! Grif! Get to it! I want you boys switched back before dinner time. Donut! Let’s go and see if Kimball has any news about what those dirty Blues are up to…”

“Great idea, Sarge!”

“Wait!” Grif shouted just as they were about to leave.

“Oh, don’t worry, Grif. Simmon’s should be functioning perfectly fine, heh heh.”

“That’s just it. He’s not,” there was a pause. “I mean, I don’t know about that part, but you need to fix his arm. And that thing with the stabbing dying pain in the stomach, that needs to be fixed too. I always knew your machines were kinda just thrown together and barely working, but this is Simmon’s we’re talking about. You need to fix him up properly. And this eye? The camera in it is the worst. Could you have picked a worse lens? Fix that too.”

Sarge grumbled the whole time, but didn’t interrupt Grif as he spoke.

“Anything else I should know about?”

“No, I think we’re good.”

“Actually, Sir…”

Sarge looked to Simmons, expecting him to continue. “Spit it out, Simmons.”

“If what Donut said is the only way to change back, then…” Simmons’s sentence trailed off and a silence fell across the room.

“Ohhhh!” Donut exclaimed, sudden realisation dawning on him. “I think Simmons is trying to say that you might need to make the repairs on him before we head out to see General Kimball, Sarge.”

Simmons was looking anywhere but Sarge. The ground was incredibly interesting right now.

“Let me get my tool kit…” Sarge grumbled.


End file.
